


Meat Malfunction

by NoPantsRelationship



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Amputation, Amputation Kink, Asphyxiation, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Brain Damage, Brain Drain - Freeform, Broken Bones, Cannibalism, Cannibalism Play, Casual Sex, Clone Sex, Clones, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Consensual Snuff, Consensual Violence, Creampie, Destruction, Disintegration, Dolcett - Freeform, Dubious Science, Enthusiastic Consent, Exhibitionism, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fetish, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Genetic Engineering, Genetics, Guro, Happy Ending, Happy Sex, Heavy BDSM, IQ Loss, Masochism, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Partners, Multiple Selves, Mutilation, Objectification, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Original Universe, Other, POV Original Character, POV Third Person Limited, Pain, Painful Sex, Painplay, Perversion, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Ryona, Science Fiction, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Violence, Size Difference, Size Kink, Snuff, Taboo, Vaginal Sex, bimbo, shortstack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoPantsRelationship/pseuds/NoPantsRelationship
Summary: In an original sci-fi setting where cloning custom-purpose intelligent creatures is common, a cognitive troubleshooter is dispatched to find out why a sentient sextoy isn't as eager to be slaughtered as it should be.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Meat Malfunction

The service visit had been scheduled for the mid-morning lull at the Femi Factory. Silas would have preferred to do his work after closing time, but his hourly rate increased after 5 and the manager wasn't shy about being stingy. Annoyingly, he was also late. 

Silas looked around, getting a feel for the place while waiting to meet with the proprietor. The service request had given him the technical details, of course. Medium sized cloning business, specialized in making a particular type of livestock-cum-sextoy called a 'Femi'. High turnaround, churning out a fresh stock of hundreds of organisms and thousands of pounds of biomass every single day. Proprietary genetic sequences, trademarked names. Just one of any number of clients that cloned brains based off his company's gene libraries.

Standing there amidst the slaughter gave him a better, more graphic sense of the company's business model. 

Occupying semi-private booths with a variety of cooking equipment and sexual toys, Femi Factory customers satisfied their lusts and hungers in overlapping displays of gluttony. Men and women alike fucked their Femis, hurting and breaking them in their uncaring need to get off. They ripped cloned flesh apart with bloody hands, often eating the meat raw. Those few that took the trouble to cook their Femi did so sadistically, roasting them alive while continuing to take sexual pleasure from their slow death.

The Femis themselves were built to purpose. Barely two feet tall, the cloned creatures were shaped like little well-stacked women, having the appearance of mini fertility goddesses as they scampered to the tables where they would be brutally fucked and eaten. Their perfectly grown breasts were ridiculously large for their frames, bouncing obscenely with every little motion. Only the fact that they never lived longer than a day saved them from the sagging normal humans had to deal with. 

They came in a few varieties, referred to as 'models' by the Factory. Some sported extra large breasts, requiring the Femi hold them up with their weak little arms as they walked. Others lactated sweet milk, which could be used as a beverage or as a basting liquid. A few Silas saw even had little cocks between their fleshy thighs, or round bellies that resembled the swell of pregnancy. Every one he saw had a unique combination of features, shaped to appeal to many different sexual tastes. 

Despite this great variety, there was one thing the Femis all had in common: Complete and utter masochism.

Every single one of the cloned creatures went willingly to a death at the hands of customers, crying out in bliss while being eaten and eviscerated, visibly orgasming when their weak bones snapped during rough sex, presenting their tender bodies and talking about how best to cook them as if they were discussing honeymoon plans. It was clear to Silas that they wanted these things to happen to them, their expressions and actions in line with what he knew of their genetic coding. Not a one was afraid of death, understanding their purpose as meat and hardwired to be turned on by it.

Except, perhaps, for the one Silas was here to see.

"Are you the clone tech guy?" 

The manager had a gruff manner, but dressed professionally enough for his occupation. Six feet tall with a bald head and bushy eyebrows, he fit into his suit like a sausage stuffed into a skin. Silas shook his hand, smiling courteously. 

"Yes, I'm here in regards to the malfunctioning model. Are you Mr. Baumgardt?" 

"That's me. Here, come around back. We keep the vats this way." The man waved one thick fingered hand, turning away and starting to walk before he'd finished speaking. Silas moved to follow, glancing into booths as he passed them. He caught a glimpse of a Femi with her guts out, face stuffed against a woman's crotch while a man poked his cock through her belly. The way she'd been laid on the table had presented her pussy to him perfectly, juices beading on her smooth labia like a leaky faucet.

The manager opened the back door for him, using his palm to grant access. Outside of the resturaunt's dining room it was much quieter, the screams of pleasure and sounds of bodies being broken fading away behind a concrete wall. Supply pipes were bolted to the sturdy barrier, more running along the floors and ceiling to the many modular cloning vats arranged around the warehouse-like space.

Stacked like pillars throughout the large room, the cloning vats formed continuous tubes from floor to ceiling. At the top new embryos were inserted into the nutrient bath, microscopic to start out with but quickly growing larger. The life cycle progressed as they went downward, the multiple Femis in each tube showcasing their development like a slideshow, going from a cluster of cells to something that resembled a human woman, but shared almost no genetic code with one.

They stopped before one of the pillars in particular, Silas inspecting its contents. The nearly finished Femi at his eye level had dark hair that floated in the nutrient fluid, her soft lips suckling one of her own breasts while she waited to be awakened for her few hours of life. There were no obvious defects he could see, the clone as attractive as any of those out dying on the restaurant floor. 

"Would you mind going over for me again what the issue is with this one?" Silas gestured to the tub and its occupant, mostly asking the question so the manager had something to talk about while Silas inspected the cloning vat's technical readout.

"Well, ever since we developed this one it's been funny. It's a fresh one every day of course, so it always acts the same way. Most of 'em come out, open their eyes, stand up and strut off to find a customer." The manager rubbed at his expansive forehead, appearing unnerved by the short creature floating in the tank. "This one... she watches. Avoids customers, but watches the other Femis when they get taken, used. It's creepy as hell. They're only supposed to be smart enough to be fun to kill, but sometimes I swear she has this look in her eye..."

Barely listening, Silas absently nodded his head at the words. They'd checked the problem remotely before he'd been dispatched, reading the genetic code of the model to see if there were any obvious defects. What they'd found had been highly conspicuous, but inconclusive. This model, and only this model, had a double copy of the gene that converted pain into pleasure.

Doubled genes were a tricky thing. Having two copies could mean the second one negated the effect of the first, or it could mean the second did absolutely nothing at all. It could make corresponding trait stronger, or it could cause new effects entirely. Such things were impossible to determine from DNA alone. Thus, Silas had been dispatched to troubleshoot the model in person.

After confirming that the vat readout showed the same doubled gene that his remote queries had indicated, Silas started checking biometric data. The Femi didn't seem to have a larger brain than the other models, nor did they show any unusual growth patterns or developmental neurochemistry. There was nothing here that glared out at him as the cause of her strange behavior.

"Has her model ever been taken by a customer?" Silas asked.

"Oh, yeah. Half the time they dodge until closing time, but the someone nabs them often enough. Once they're picked up they're quiet, but they don't fight or anything. Still enjoy it. Though customers do say sometimes that they look kind of... sad. When they die."

That was more than troubling. Imbuing an organism with sentience was only legal within narrow channels, and the Femis' capacity to think and feel was meant to be very limited. They were utterly unable to process most kinds of human thought, their consciousness encompassing only a ridiculous sex drive and a rudimentary empathy so they could understand when they made a customer feel good. Practically no creativity or logic was built into them. They certainly shouldn't be encountering situations that made them sad.

Frowning at the conundrum, Silas tapped the cloning vat.

"This next one is ready to birth. Do you mind if I pull her out, run some behavioral tests?"

The manager shrugged, bushy eyebrows raising. 

"Be my guest. There's a private room back where we came in if you need it." He thumbed towards the door that opened to the restaurant area, a few other rooms further along the wall.

"Thanks." Silas started keying in the commands that would awaken and dispense the Femi. "Where can I find you once I'm done?"

"My office is at the very end." Jerking his thumb again, the manager started to walk away as the cloning vat gurgled. "Let me know once you figured it out."

Alone now, Silas watched as the lowest of the Femis in the cloning sequence started to sink to the bottom of the vat. Once she was at ground level the tube irised shut above her, holding the nutrient bath of her growing sisters in place while the liquid drained around her. A hatch opened, and after a few moments the Femi stumbled out.

Silas looked at her, and she looked at him. Her naked body was slightly wet, large breasts dripping with residual nutrients. Her dark eyes matched her hair, seeming solemn and sultry as she stared up at him. The face was a work of art, unique enough to have character but attractive enough to make Silas sweat a little, even knowing what she was. 

A few moments of silence passed between them, and he noted her quietness as a possible part of her behavior issues.

"Do you understand this language?" Silas asked, checking that her speech center had formed with all the pre-loaded understanding it should have. She nodded, still staring at his face. The expression she wore wasn't quite blank, but curious. Thoughtful. 

"Do you know why you exist?" This was to test whether her motivational centers were pre-loaded, a likely area of malfunction considering how her previous incarnations had acted.

"To give pleasure and food from my body to the customer. To die broken. To feel good while doing so." She recited the words that had been built into her brain, not missing a beat and showing no hesitation. 

Silas nodded, then held up two fingers, making sure she saw them. He held up two more fingers on his other hand, having her look at those as well.

"Can you show me on one hand how many fingers I'm holding up?" This was a basic test of her intellectual limitations, making sure she hadn't somehow developed mental capabilities she shouldn't have.

The Femi frowned at his fingers, then at her own. She held up two fingers on one hand, then the other, mimicking him. She tried to bump her hands together, but after a few seconds of no success she looked back up at him and shook her head. No math skills whatsoever.

"What am I thinking?" Silas changed his own behavior after asking the question, testing her empathy and social skills. Staring at her chest, he licked his lips slowly, shifting his hips to showcase the erection he'd had for a few minutes now.

"You want my tits, and to fuck me." The Femi frowned as she said it, seeming displeased.

"Do you want me to do that?" Silas grew concerned. This was not the reaction she should be having.

"No."

"Why not? Won't it feel good?

She frowned again, but didn't answer. Her lovely features were a mask of confusion as she tried to puzzle through something with the barely functional brain she'd been born with, seeming to make no headway on whatever she was stuck on.

"Come with me," Silas said, not wanting to perform the physical tests out among the vats of growing Femis. It hardly was the sort of place that got him in the mood. The malfunctioning creature took his hand without complaint, following him to the private room the manager had mentioned.

Once inside he stripped off his technicians outfit, efficiently folding it and setting it out of the way. The Femi watched with her tiny frown, eyes fixating on his cock.

Acting before he could even begin the next sequence of tests, the Femi stepped forward and wrapped her lips around him. Her dark eyes stared up, body quivering slightly as her hands fidgeted with breasts. A little moan squeezed out of her as she forced his cock deeper into her mouth, the sleeve of her esophagus built exclusively for this purpose. 

Silas groaned, gripping her head but unable to force her away. Falling into a nearby chair, he looked down at her as she contentedly sucked him, the entirety of his cock inside her mouth.

"Sex drive seems functional," he muttered, trying to keep the analytical part of his brain running. It was difficult - she was quite good at this. More pre-loaded knowledge that was working properly.

Given the situation there was only one other function he could think to check at the moment. Taking hold of one of the Femi's arms, he gripped it carefully, gauging her reaction. She watched with wide eyes, sucking him even more eagerly as he braced to snap her arm in half.

The break was clean, requiring very little strength. The Femis' bodies weren't built to last, instead made with cooking and recycling in mind. Intended to melt down into tasty gelatin at high heat, their bones were barely strong enough to support their weight. 

Squealing as her limb snapped like a twig, the Femi's entire body bucked, salty-sweet juices spritzing from her pussy. Cumming from the pain, she convulsively swallowed around Silas's cock, the expression on her face and the stimulation pushing him over the edge himself. Gripping her skull and unloading down her throat, the technician grunted a few times, then sighed. 

Pulling him free of her throat, the Femi diligently began to clean his cock, visibly relishing the flavor of his cum. Her taste centers had developed properly, then. Silas watched her work, her broken arm dangling against her side.

"Did you enjoy that?" The question seemed somehow stupid, Silas feeling self-conscious despite the fact that the Femi was neurologically incapable of judging him. She nodded, absently sucking the tip of his cock now that he was polished clean. It reminded him of how she'd looked before she'd birthed, floating in her vat and nursing from her own breast.

Using her strange patience and silence to think for a moment, Silas leaned back, closing his eyes and going back over his findings. The Femi was dumb, lustful, and masochistic. She knew her purpose, knew how to fulfill it, knew that humans were eager to help her do so. She was exactly as she should be. 

Except...

Silas put a hand around the Femi's throat, squeezing with increasing pressure. Though their anatomy didn't correlate completely to a human's, the creature still had to breathe. He increased the pressure until she couldn't, observing her reaction with a critical eye.

At first she seemed almost uncaring, continuing to suckle him and staring back while he choked her. There was no protest, though she had to know what he was doing. 

Her face started to turn red after only a few seconds, her service of his cock slowing down. One of her little hands reached up to where he held her throat, not pulling it away but stroking it, her eyelids fluttering as she appreciated his murderous intent through the lens of her masochistic sexuality. 

Cock popping from her mouth as she began to turn blue, Silas saw her start to tremble. Her hips bucked, a raspy moan forcing through her constricted throat as the pain of asphyxiation started to sink in. He kept a firm grip, feeling an unexpected thrill while watching her die slowly in throes of ecstasy. Though this was supposed to be all business, he was starting to see why people came to this restaurant. 

Movements growing weaker, the Femi's face tinged towards purple as the last bit of life trickled away. That was when Silas saw it. The sadness the manager had mentioned, her beautiful features becoming a mask of regret as she approached her final moments.

He let go of her, the Femi gasping in surprise as she collapsed. Breathing hard for a few moments, she lay on the ground facing up at him, short body on display while she ran her good hand over herself.

"You stopped," she said in confusion. It was almost accusatory.

"You looked like you wanted me to stop, like you were sad," Silas said, speaking slowly and with emphasis. "What made you sad?"

The Femi frowned again, breasts heaving as she took deep breaths. 

"I wanted... more." She closed her eyes, lounging upon the floor with her broken arm twisted unnaturally beside her. "It wasn't enough. I was all done but it wasn't enough"

Silas felt like he was on the brink of understanding, mind racing to find the question that would make everything make sense. He went over her behavior patterns once again, comparing it to how she'd acted now. 

"Do you want me to hurt you more?"

The Femi nodded, smiling up at him like a bemused lover. He considered this, and thought about the way her other selves had acted.

"Do you know what happens if I don't kill you?"

Her grin was wide and excited, a sudden hunger showing in her dark eyes. 

"Yes. That's why I only want you to hurt me more."

It all clicked into place. Watching death with fascination, but dodging it herself. Enjoying pain, but feeling regret when she died. Her thoughtfulness, her extra consideration. 

Each Femi, and most intelligent animals for that matter, had a conceptual reward system built into their brain to evaluate which present action would lead to the highest value future. In other words, what could they do or plan to do that would lead to the most benefit overall. 

This fairly complex cognitive system had been preserved in the Femis, though it was supposed to be greatly simplified by reducing their number of motivations down to one overriding desire. Their masochism meant that the best thing to do was go find a sadistic customer to hurt and kill them. A simple equation. 

What Silas hadn't understood was how the equation changed if the masochism was ramped up even farther. With her doubled gene, the malfunctioning Femi wanted not just to experience pain but to maximize it. This put her desires into conflict with each other, as death cut short her opportunities at agony. 

There was an additional element as well, more inbuilt knowledge swaying her decisions. If a Femi failed to attract a customer by the end of the day they would be recycled, their biomass put back into the tanks to grow the next batch of meat. This wasn't intended as a punishment, simply a fact of their life - they could only ever live as long as a day. They were born knowing this, understanding their possible fates. It helped to guide their reward system if they knew what doing nothing would result in.

Instead of seeing being recycled as a null outcome, this Femi's hyperactive pain response made her see it as a reward. Being fed into the destructive maw of a meat reprocessor must seem alluring to a creature whose goal was to maximize her own agony, so much so that in order to pursue that more tempting face she would avoid the smaller pains and less interesting death a customer could offer.

So Silas had his hypothesis. The malfunctioning Femi was doubly masochistic, shifting her priorities. Instead of being happy to die at the hands of the first customer that claimed her, she wanted to experience the reward of being fed into the recycler at the end of a full and agonizing day.

All he had to do now was confirm it via testing.

"Get up." Silas pulled the Femi to her feet, making her squeak with pleasure as he gripped her broken arm. "We're going to go try something." 

The Femi frowned at his words, unable to formulate the question that was so plain on her face. He answered it anyway, meeting her vapid gaze.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you," he assured her. He was starting to feel like this was all a bit outside his area of expertise, but it was interesting enough that he didn't mind. "I'm just going to hurt you very badly."

Her smile was stunning, little hands squeezing her own body in excitement as she impatiently watched him dress. Silas took the time to think, shifting mental gears as he tried to imagine methods of torture that would support his hypothesis. No matter what he came up with, there was one more thing he needed for a proper experiment. 

A control.

Back in the cloning room Mr. Baumgardt was already out of his office, performing a basic check of the vats in preparation for the lunch rush. Silas approached him, the malfunctioning Femi following at his heels like an eager puppy.

"Mr. Baumgardt." Silas lifted a hand in greeting, the manager raising his eyebrows in acknowledgment without looking his way. "I may have a handle on the issue, but I'd like to run some further tests to compare this one to the norm. Would it be possible for me to use one of the other Femis to validate my findings?"

Stopping in his rounds, Baumgardt turned to face the technician. His thick lips sneered slightly, looking over the Femi and noting her broken arm.

"You're already costing me one of my stock today. Now two?" The tone let him know the man was just complaining, seeming already aggravated about something else. Grumbling as he turned towards one of the vats, the manager punched the buttons of the control panel before answering.

"Might as well go ahead. You can't cost me much more than these damn vats already do, feels like half of them are already starting to crap out. I mean look at this." He waved a thick-fingered hand, indicating the last three vats he'd checked. "Warning, unexpected embryo failure. Warning, nutrient uptake high. Warning, iris blade desync." 

Shaking his head in disgust, he keyed in the mass birthing command before stalking back towards his office. Silas heard his parting remark, though Baumgardt spoke it mostly to himself.

"I swear they manufacture these things so they break."

Ignoring the obvious irony of the statement, Silas did a few mental calculations while watching Femis descend in their tubes all around him. He knew from his technical documents that the Femi Factory produced 96 different models, and that a fresh clone of each model was supposed to be birthed three times a day. Their average weight was just about 12 kilograms, two of which were accounted for just by their breasts. 

Completing the equation by factoring in the three years since Baumgardt had opened his business, Silas decided that 40 metric tons of Femi flesh per vat was a fairly good lifespan for cutting edge cloning tech.

Hatches hissed open all around him, the malfunctioning Femi looking around at something none of her kin ever had before. Dozens of little figures took their first steps out of their cloning vats, slender limbs stretching, heavy chests jiggling. Each of them entered the world fully understanding how short and painful their lives would be, their beautiful faces smiling at the fate before them. A garage-sized door opened into the restaurant room, the flock of naked bodies hurrying towards it. 

Silas reached out and grabbed one at random as they passed, ending up with a light brown specimen that had marvelous lips. These pursed at him in confusion, a handful of her kinky hair in his grip.

"Are you a customer?" The Femi smiled at him despite her uncertainty, not really needing an answer. The fact that he was hurting her was enough. 

Lifting the creature by her long locks, Silas followed the rest of the throng out into the restaurant room. The malfunctioning Femi hurried after him, watching his treatment of her fellow with the same look of aroused fascination her past incarnations must've worn. 

Things were just starting to get rowdy outside, the entrance to the building backed up where customers were trying to pay and enter. Using the opportunity to take the most private booth, Silas hefted both his Femis up onto the table, then spent a moment appreciating the sight before him.

Sprawled out with her broken arm cradled between her breasts, the malfunctioning Femi looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes. Waiting so patiently since his promise must've been torturous for a creature that craved stimulation as much as she did, even such a short delay consuming a considerable piece of her one day of life. Her chest heaved from all the walking she'd been doing, curvaceous body flowing onto one side as she considered her new companion. 

The control Femi was a fairly standard model, substantially different from his other only in how she behaved more as she should. Instead of calculating every action against her hope for a particular outcome, she just did whatever she thought would get him to destroy her in the fastest, most pleasurable amount of time. Her skin was a shade darker than average and her mouth was more attractive than most women's entire bodies, but by the standards of her peers she nothing special really. Just a piece of pretty meat.

Silas decided to start small with his tests, the rising sounds of sex and death from other Femis in the restaurant egging him on as he picked up a knife. Two pairs of eager eyes followed the wicked edge as he lifted it, getting accustomed to the balance. 

"Ooh," said the control, wiggling her hips. "You're gonna carve me up?" Her companion mirrored her eagerness in silence, wide dark eyes imploring Silas for a taste of the knife.

Putting a hand over the control's perfect mouth, Silas brought the blade down against her arm. Her moan caught against his palm as he sliced through the joint of her elbow, little fingers twitching while he made the cut, then falling still once it was complete. The malfunctioning Femi watched in amazement, this being the first time she'd ever seen such mutilation inflicted. Lips parted with awe, she began to touch herself while waiting her turn.

Uncovering the control's mouth, Silas leaned close to the happy creature. His whisper was too soft to be heard by the other Femi over the din of the restaurant.

"I could end you right now. Kill you in an instant with this knife. Do you want that?"

"Yes!" Her answer was instant, passionate. Her huge, soft chest pushed towards him as she presented her body for slaughter, smiling while blood leaked slowly from the stump of her arm. "Please sir, do anything you want to me. My body is all for you."

Silas kissed her then, just to see what it would be like. Her saliva was faintly sweet, her remaining arm wrapping around the back of his neck as she reciprocated with more skill and excitement than any human woman he'd known. Her lips felt soft, the movements of her tongue stoking his lusts higher. As he broke away, Silas realized that it had been her first kiss. Everything was always firsts with these clones, their bodies unspoilt so the customer could enjoy ruining perfection. 

Meeting the eyes of the malfunctioning Femi, he saw the fascination in her eyes. The hunger. Not wanting to be unfair, he turned the blade towards her, starting the same slow slice into the crook of her elbow. 

She started cumming almost as soon as he'd broken the skin, the sudden reaction far beyond that of the other Femi. Her abdominal muscles flexed as she gasped and squirted when the cut completely severed her forearm, a fresh trickle of arousal gushing from her smooth, pink pussy. Her face was an exhilarated grin, both her arms useless now with one a stump and the other broken.

"Comparatively extreme pain response," Silas murmured, starting to grasp the degree to which the Femi's single mutation had changed her. He leaned down, then asked her the same question he'd posed to the other.

"I could end you right now. Kill you in an instant with this knife." He pressed the tip of the knife against one of her breasts, pretending he knew where to find the heart. "Do you want that?"

"No." Her answer was slower in coming, subdued and calm despite the ecstasy she'd just experienced. "Not yet. It's not enough yet." She looked at him, dark eyes serious. "You promised you'd hurt me."

Silas nodded, partially in acknowledgment of her but mostly to himself. Her behavior was consistent. As far as he was concerned the experiment had been fulfilled, his hypothesis validated.

However, there was no reason to stop just yet. He was being paid by the hour after all, and it felt somehow rude to leave the Femis in this state. A little while longer with them wouldn't hurt anyone. 

Smiling at the accidental humor of the thought, Silas proceeded as if still experimenting. Lifting the control Femi's breast by the nipple, he felt it harden in his fingers as he pressed the knife against the plush flesh of her chest.

"Oh, yes!" The Femi squealed, helping to hold her meat in place for him. "Chop me up! Take some of me home in a doggy bag!"

Starting to cut, Silas decided he preferred the malfunctioning Femi's mostly mute masochism to the over-exorbinant attitude of the others. Or maybe it was just this one. 

Halfway through severing the control Femi's breast he was startled by the feeling of feet pressing at his crotch, pausing and looking down to find the malfunctioning Femi undoing his pants with her toes. Her face was focused as she worked, looking down her short body while tugging down the zipper and sticking her tiny feet into his fly. She found his erection easily enough, pulling it into the open and starting to stroke it with silky smooth soles. 

Hardly in a position to tell her to stop, Silas let himself enjoy the novel experience. Finding a rhythm easily, she pleasured him while watching the butchery of her fellow Femi, the control moaning and urging him to keep cutting through her breast. 

Savory blood dribbled and flowed as he completed the cut, the disproportionate piece of meat hanging from his hand with a hefty weight. The control Femi seemed almost proud as she looked at him holding it, a little smile on her lips as she fondled her remaining breast with her good arm.

"Go on," she pressed. "Taste me."

Holding up the severed breast, Silas glanced around. It was ridiculous to be self conscious at this point, but still. With no one but Femis watching, he took a bite. Then two.

His stomach growled as he marveled at what was in his mouth. The meat wasn't just tender and juicy. It was as delicious as if it had been seasoned and cooked already, each Femi imbued with their own unique flavor to complement their unique appearance. Plain, natural meat required spices and preparation to be safe and tasty to the human palette, the chemistry of cooking adding complex compounds to better stimulate the taste buds. Femi meat required no such processing. The flavorful compounds had been grown into the meat itself, manufactured in the cells to wait for the moment a customer took a bite. 

"Ooh, looks like I'm tasty," the control purred. "Eat as much as you want. If you get full you can take some of me home in a doggy bag." She seemed to have forgotten she'd already used that line, too preoccupied in trying to get him to slice off more of her.

Silas dropped her meat to the table, taking hold of the malfunctioning Femi's breast in the same way he had for the control. Her nipples were already completely stiff, darker peaks on her pale flesh. Her feet stroked him with more urgency, the pleasure starting to build as she stared into his eyes.

He cut her, and her feet squeezed his shaft between them. Whimpering and trembling, she tried to brace herself with her ruined arms, pushing her chest up for him to more easily mutilate. She came before her breast was fully detached, mouth opening in a little 'o' of delight as she silently climaxed, too breathless to even moan.

Tasting her, Silas compared the flavor to the control. The malfunctioning Femi was sweeter, the other more savory. Both were delicious enough to make his mouth water for another bite.

Allowing himself one last sample of the malfunction's meat, he set aside his stomach for more urgent matters. Both Femis were smiling and flushed with excitement, missing limbs and breasts. Yet there was still more of them left to break. 

Slicing across the control Femi's brown belly, Silas saw for himself what the creatures' insides looked like. Ignoring her grateful moans and encouragements, he opened her up and dug hands into her strangely clean insides, hardly getting bloody at all while pulling out whatever he found. 

Unsurprisingly, it wasn't much. The clones had been built as pieces of barely-sentient meat, only needing to stay alive long enough to get killed by a customer. The guts he pushed through were entirely ornamental, loops of 'intestine' that were just meat grown to look like what the untrained eye would expect to find in a human belly. There was no true digestive tract at all, their three fuckable holes all built the same way save for the shape of their apertures, the mouth and ass equally pleasurable as the pussy. Within the ribcage was really just a heart, lungs, and a few vestigial lumps tucked away where a customer was unlikely to encounter them. The cloning vat supplied all they needed during growth, and this small complement of vital organs was enough to get them through their very short lifespan. The nutrients required to grow a functional anatomy would be a needless expense.

Silas didn't notice when the control Femi died. Somewhere along his investigations he must've broken a vital piece of her, or else she'd bled out from how he'd mutilated her. Her body was still warm by the time he realized she was gone, a smile on her beautiful lips, her pussy soaked from her last orgasms.

He looked over at the malfunctioning Femi, glad to see she was still alive. Her feet began to tentatively stroke him again as he met her eyes, her attention having been focused on his butchery. 

Instead taking her feet and pulling them apart, Silas slammed his cock into her without further hesitation. Her entire body shuddered in response, the shiver traveling up her spine and making her smile as it reached her brain. Despite her skewed priorities, this was still what she'd been built for. 

Loving eyes looked up at him as he used her tiny body, broken and bleeding on the table beside the corpse of her fellow Femi. Her remaining breast jiggled, begging for a hand to fondle it, for his mouth to take a bite. Her shapely little legs strained from how far he'd spread them, but she offered no protest, only enjoying the agony of her body being pushed too far.

Taking up the knife once more, Silas started to slowly slice into her upper thigh, carefully cutting into the join while his cock leisurely pumped at her hole just a few centimeters away. The Femi started to cum almost at once, gasping and trembling as her pussy clamped down around his shaft. Juices dribbled around where they were joined, the flow almost matching that of the blood leaking from her leg as it was severed. 

Silas repeated the process with the other leg, wrapping a hand around her throat to keep her steady. It was hard to keep her steady with how she quivered with every thrust, but he couldn't bring himself to pull out of the perfect pleasure her hole offered. With the way she was repeatedly orgasming it almost felt like she was trying to hold him in, the clenching inner muscles massaging his length. 

Blood spattered the table as he finished the job, laying out all her removed limbs in a tidy row beside the corpse of the control Femi. Now having just the one broken arm, the malfunctioning Femi was nothing more than a living cocksleeve, helpless to do anything but arch her back and twitch her remaining ruined limb. She smiled, eyelids flickering with bliss as the blood stopped flowing. For a moment Silas was worried she'd died as well, but it was just another feature of her design, keeping her from bleeding out so she could stay fun for longer.

Looking up at him, the Femi's expression was one of devotion, gratitude. Mixed in with the pleasure, she seemed truly happy to be living the dream her genes had given her. 

It was too much for Silas. He couldn't hold back any more, grabbing her by the hips and using her little body for all it was worth. Her pelvis cracked from the force of his thrusts, from the tightness of his grip, but she only wanted more, meeting his gaze and grinning through her moans. He came inside with a gasp, then fell silent, the pleasure rocking through him. Surprise accompanied it, the jolting pleasure as he unloaded galvanized by shock at how intense the orgasm was, how long it lasted and how copious it felt. There was no genetic manipulation involved there - he just hadn't realized how much this had turned him on. 

Long moments later, when Silas felt he could once again breathe normally, he let go of the Femi's broken body. His fingers felt stiff, and she was leaking cum as well as her own juices and blood. Her face bore the same peaceful expression he'd first seen in her cloning vat, pink lips pursed in a smile. Silas pushed his cock into the smile, letting her suck him clean. Rather than spoiling her air of contentment, it seemed to complete it, her mostly limbless body relaxing against the table.

He didn't bother telling her what he was going to do next. It was what she wanted, after all. 

Taking a moment to make himself decent after she'd cleaned him up, Silas gripped the Femi by her broken arm, carrying her across the restaurant floor. Towards the recycler. Little noises of pleasure accompanied each step, her dark eyes looking up at him as he walked. There was no sadness in them this time. Only eagerness.

The recycler was hidden away at the end of a short corridor, off in a small room all its own where it wouldn't get in a customer's way. Silas found himself in a short line of Femis, some of them damaged, some still pristine. Ahead of him the first in line tossed herself into the recycler itself, falling forward into the rectangular pit in the ground that would be her end. 

Little limbs jerked as the recycler began to split her apart, invisible cutting lasers and splitting fields turning her slowly from a coherent creature into a pulpy red mash, processing her from where her flesh passed through an invisible plane at the very entrance of the recycler. The red mash separated further into useful nutrients as it fell further into the recycler, disappearing into dimness while she slowly disintegrated. Her body itself never fell in, lying on top of the invisible plane while 'sinking' in gradually, like a person in water slowly submerging. Eventually all of her disappeared, turned into more biomass for the cloning vats.

Silas gently stopped the next Femi in line from jumping in, making her wait a moment as he cut ahead. The malfunctioning Femi trembled as he dangled her above the recycler, eager excitement on her face as he lowered her slowly towards that destructive opening. 

Her eyes met his one last time before her body touched the invisible plane, a somehow innocent happiness reflecting in her dark pupils. 

The bottom of her delimbed torso passed through the barrier, beginning to turn into mush. She stiffened, gasping aloud and cumming in the moment before her crotch was consumed, body jerking as the sensitive area was ripped into its constituent materials. After that her enjoyment was more subdued, Silas helping her to descend slowly as she smiled down at her disappearing body. He didn't let go until the light left her eyes, the remainder of her body falling backward to lie atop the plane until it sunk through and nothing was left.

After she was gone Silas stood there for a moment longer, holding up the line of other Femis waiting to recycle themselves. His expression was thoughtful as he stared into the blackness of the recycler, considering his findings. 

This Femi had been the first of her model to live out its desires in full, the rest of them frustrated by dying at the hands of a customer, or else by only being able to experience pleasure vicariously until they jumped into the recycler. 

The solution to this was simple, of course. Remove the second copy of the masochist gene that caused this behavior. Make them just a normal Femi, like all the rest.

Except... Silas found had preferred this Femi over the others. There were advantages here, and not just ones of personal taste. It seemed a waste just to cut out their uniqueness, to make them fall in line. Perhaps there was another way.

An idea starting to occur to him, Silas left the recycling chamber, heading towards the manager's office. Rapping on the door, he entered once he heard the man's gruff call. Mr. Baumgardt was seated at a desk reviewing data analytics on a screen. A dead Femi was on the floor beside him, breasts missing and face brutally smashed in. Thick eyebrows lifting as he turned his gaze towards Silas, he gestured to a chair. 

Seating himself and ignoring the corpse, Silas collected his thoughts, then launched into his explanation. 

"I've experimented with the malfunctioning model, and come to a conclusion. As suspected, her erratic behavior was due to the doubled copy of her masochist gene that we first noticed. By playing with her inherent reward system and questioning her so far as I was able, I determined that she had an extreme pleasure response to any pain, far more so than the typical Femi. This adjusted her behavior so that she aimed to maximize her own agony instead of just seek out customers, her torture of choice being the recycler. She avoided customers in the hope that she would live through her shift and be rewarded by tossing herself in to be slowly disintegrated, a far more painful experience than anything else she has the capacity to imagine. The regret she showed when dying by other means was disappointment at not getting to enjoy her preferred fate. These findings explain the behavioral differences that were observed, so I feel that about encompasses the issue."

The manager grunted to himself, considering the information. Silas could practically see the capitalist gears turning behind the man's bushy brows, trying to understand the situation so he could profit from it. Hopefully he could lean on that, but first he needed to make sure they both comprehended the issue.

"Why didn't she just walk straight over to the recycler, then?" Mr. Baumgardt asked, flicking one meaty hand. "It's right there. Nothing stopping her." His tone was more curious than accusatory, still thinking things through.

"You would think that would be the case," Silas agreed, nodding. "But her programming was still mostly intact. She did want to meet customers, she just wanted to go into the recycler more. I believe her ideal was to be used and hurt by a customer, but left alive at the end to be recycled. Cognitively limited as they are, I think that the watching of other Femis was the unconscious compromise she arrived at. Just now I tested my theory by giving her what I think she wanted, abuse and then the recycler, and she seemed very content with that."

"Huh. Strange..." The manager scratched his bald head. "Well. How long for you to fix up the genetic error, then?"

Silas took a breath. This was the hard part. Convincing someone there was a better solution than the obvious one.

"Actually sir, a fix might not be necessary. This model has its advantages, and I think you might be able to use them to attract business."

"Oh?" Mr. Baumgardt leaned back in his chair, making it creak. "How so?"

Silas began to explain, watching with growing satisfaction as Baumgardt's interest grew, the man eventually nodding along with his words. At the end of the discussion he left without changing the 'malfunctioning' model's genome by a single nucleotide, a plan already laid out to implement his suggestion.

* * *

Some months later, Silas decided to take a detour on his way back from another client. These days he always volunteered to take the cases in this area, hoping that he'd end up with enough spare time to slip away and spend a few moments with the piece of work he was most proud of.

Strolling through alleys and streets, he made his way to a familiar building, the sign across its front proudly proclaiming 'Femi Factory'. It was bigger than it had once been, purchasing adjacent real estate and expanding outward, now having three dining rooms and four times as many vats. It was the lull after lunch right now, just the time Silas preferred to arrive. At this point in the day there was usually no line at any of the entrances, but he didn't head towards any of those. He didn't have that much time. 

Besides, his favorite piece of meat didn't require going inside, or even paying.

A little ways to the side of what had once been the only entrance, a single bathroom stall-like door hung open, the sign above it simply reading 'Free Samples'. Silas checked the time, then hurried in. It was almost too late, but he just might catch it.

Inside was a small, private room, a dim mood light illuminated the only other occupant. Silas closed the door behind him, appreciating the sight of her as his eyes adjusted to the illumination. The Femi he had once experimented with lay on her back at exactly crotch level, head away from him. Her body extended halfway out of the wall itself, upper half housed in an alcove and protected behind a sheet of resilient quickglass. The transparent material was snug around her midsection, staying tight against her skin even as she shifted and moved.

Below the quickglass barrier her body was a ruin. Blood and cum dripped off torn and used up flesh, her two holes having been reamed until they became one. Her right leg was missing below the knee, and someone had torn into her belly to pull out the faux guts. Yet with her few vital organs all kept safely out of reach, she was still conscious. Still alive, even though she'd been here since she'd been decanted, cycling in to replace the model from the breakfast meal period. This was the end of her shift, the result of hours spent at the mercy of anyone who cared to use her.

At exactly 3:00 PM the quickglass flowed and flexed as the wall at the other side of the alcove disappeared, making it a hole through the wall itself. A second Femi appeared, identical to the other but with her body still pristine, pulling the bloody mess of the body away from Silas and out of sight. He waited for a while, knowing what was happening. The Femi was feeding her previous self into the recycler, as every Femi of her model had done as their first act ever since he'd made his proposal to the manager. He could even hear the moans through the quickglass, though they cut off after only a minute or so.

Soon after the fresh Femi reappeared, sliding herself eagerly into the same place her predecessor had occupied. The quickglass allowed her body through, then locked tight around her midsection, protecting her face and breasts. It was a necessary compromise, as few people would be interested in fucking a corpse. Given the opportunity, he was sure someone would do her the disservice of a quick death.

He was already hard, wasting no time in entering her, nor in taking out his knife. He'd started to carry one just for this single purpose, quickly cutting her flesh down to the bone as he pounded her hard through a brutal amputation of one beautiful leg. It was something he'd become rather good at, not even having to slow his pace to mutilate and fuck her simultaneously. 

She showed her appreciation with subdued moans and intense orgasms, her other leg quivering, little toes curling as she climaxed around his cock. Finishing inside her with a satisfied grunt, he ripped off her leg as he came, watching her lips make a little 'o' of surprised delight. 

Panting, he held his prize in one hand, carefully cleaning and stowing his knife before carefully cleaning and stowing his cock. Sighing in satisfaction, he gave the Femi's remaining leg a little squeeze, looking at her face for a moment. 

She didn't remember him, of course. This was a different clone, freshly birthed into a life of happiness and pain. Yet without him, she would be just another Femi. She didn't know it, but she owed him not just the torment she experienced in this room, but also the extra pleasure she took from the treatment.

Smiling, she met his eyes, still trembling from the intensity of her ecstasy. She couldn't have looked happier.

Biting into her severed leg, Silas left, knowing he'd be back for more.


End file.
